


The Shape in the Glass

by Xilanada



Category: Prey (Video Game 2017)
Genre: Canon Lesbian Relationship, F/F, Female Morgan Yu, Gen, Morgan Yu Is A Typhon, Post-Canon, Post-Game(s), Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2019-10-03 05:08:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17277650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xilanada/pseuds/Xilanada
Summary: F - Morgan: Two years after Talos I, Carolyn Wheeler is a survivor on occupied Earth who comes face to face with the architect of Earth's downfall. Is Morgan Yu destroyer or savior for what's left of the world? (Spoilers: Will ruin the ending of 2017's Prey if you haven't played it)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Carolyn Wheeler is indeed a canonical character and makes for a fun point of view to write. I've written five chapters so far but I'm not the fastest writer. I will get this finished eventually but don't want to overpromise on a posting schedule. 
> 
> Critique is always welcome.

“Good morning, Carolyn.”

Oblivion receded and she woke, feeling strange.  The sheets felt thick, clinging to her skin uncomfortably.  She shed them and they fell in a lump at her feet. At which point she realized the sheets, her bed and her skin were damp with sweat.  

It wasn’t warm.  It hadn’t been warm then either.  But even going near that memory made her hands tremble.  

Carolyn Wheeler picked up her transcribe and opened its display.  The vivid colors washed out the gray shadows sunrise cast through cloaked blinds.  Razor sharp resolution and swimming text forced sleep to recede, banishing the tender traces of nightmares unremembered.  This time.

* * *

 

CAROLYN WHEELER // EMAIL

**From** : Alex Yu  
**To** : Carolyn Wheeler  
**Cc** :   
**Subject** : New Project Request  
  
Ms. Wheeler,

Nice job on the congressional hearings.  Senator Bakker’s rattled many in his time and you didn’t give him an inch.  

I have something new for you.  Come by my office and we’ll talk.  Be ready to clear your calendar for the next month.  This is important. 

-Alex

* * *

“What?”

TranStar Industries typically required email correspondence to be handled through a dedicated terminal, for security reasons.  As a public relations worker, she had special exemption due to her travel schedule. Even so, she didn’t get many emails directly from TranStar’s former CEO.  

Not since Talos I.

Carolyn groaned, left her transcribe on the nightstand and padded across the carpet of her studio apartment to the attached bathroom.  Ten minutes of scrubbing wiped away all traces of sweat, fatigue and guilt. Another twenty was enough to put her face on, tug her TranStar corporate uniform on and face the day.  

Parting the curtains, she stared at the Looking Glass display of the Yakima Training Center’s exterior.  

The images of the sun-soaked landscape made the small, cramped quarters feel like they were above-ground, instead of six levels below it.  At the moment, her display was set to overlook the grounds of the main multi-purpose administrative offices of the Yakima Training Center. It gave her an ample view of the shaped rock beds bordering the base, as well as the dead brown shrub-steppe the facility was located on.  

This was a place for training soldiers for conflicts in the Middle East, or had been.  Now it was TranStar’s, purchased six years ago for some top-secret research which was probably tossed two years ago when Earth fell.

<Carolyn, pick up, pick up!>

Transcribes were amazing contextual tools.  A soft AI assistant could make decisions on how to handle incoming calls based on a thousand factors.  It’d evidently opted to connect her caller directly, likely due to the fact that Carolyn was at a window before work hours and the caller was her nephew.

“Oi, I’m barely awake,” she said, a stern complaint in her tone that she knew he’d overlook immediately.  

“Boring.  Guess what?”

Carolyn huffed an affectionate sigh, even as she flipped on her work terminal to glance over her itinerary for the day.  Her eyebrows shot straight up, once she saw cancellation notices everywhere.

Whatever Alex Yu wanted to talk about, it didn’t look like it’d be a quick conversation.  

“Your mum decided she’d had enough of you and is giving you away?” she said at last, shaking her head as she fetched her briefcase.  

“Hey!”

“You found that girl you fancy, didn’t you Sam?”

“...Maybe…”  

Carolyn chuckled as she stepped briskly down the barracks hallway of Sublevel Six, eyes on the bulk elevator at the end of the corridor.  Two soldiers stood at attention at the end, waiting for her, along with a third stationed permanently in the elevator.

The psychoscope fitted over his face never failed to remind her of the place that’d created it, as well as the place where the end of the world had come from.  

“Right.  Here’s what you do.  Ask for her name. Ask which barracks her family’s assigned to.  By the time she’s answered both, look at her feet. If they’re pointed at you, check her eyes.  Good eye contact? If the answer to both is yes, invite her to a match. If she’s not meeting your eyes or pointing her feet towards you, she doesn’t fancy you or at least not the conversation at this particular point.  So you might as well let her be and have a go another time, just in case it’s circumstantial.”

“...You’re having me on, Auntie!”

“Would I do that?”

“Definitely!” Sam’s laughing reply came without hesitation, but the guileless joy in his voice warmed her heart as little else did.  “When are you coming back to London Camp?”

“Sam, I’m about to go into work.  Soon. I don’t know. Message me, won’t you?”

“Bye!”

Carolyn shook her head and waited for the elevator to come to a complete stop.  Sublevel Twenty. Security for the Beast Below.

The fencing of the bulk transport rattled open.  Carolyn didn’t take a step out but simply nodded at the two soldiers and their P210 Assault Rifles aimed at her on the other side.  The third in their squad tapped on his psychoscope and studied her impassively for a moment. He nodded sharply and the ranks parted.

“Ma’am?”

She glanced back, surprised to be addressed by the soldier stationed in the elevator.  The young man coughed, cleared his throat, then leaned forward. Amused, she did the same.  

“Does that work?”  

“What, the feet?”  Carolyn grinned at him, not minding the light breach of discipline on his part.  “Most of the time. Have a conversation with someone, let them settle into it and their feet will tell you where they want to be.  If they’re aimed at you, that’s good then. But if they’re aimed away, they’re probably pointed at where they’d like to be whether that’s the door or simply another person.  Next time you’re at mess, watch conversations and see for yourself.”

“...Will do, Ma’am.”  Despite the unblinking glare of the psychoscope on his face, there was an earnestness to his abashed chuckle as he retreated back to his post.  “Thanks!”

“Don’t mention it.”

The unexpected conversation was the most memorable part of her journey through Sublevel Twenty, given the layout was identical to the research sublevels from the previous ten floors.  The real difference lay at the end, when a concealed supply closet door yielded to reveal another security checkpoint.

Once more patient with the scrutiny, Carolyn passed the time responding to several queries about the quarterly statement coming up next month.  She didn’t bother to look up until a soldier positioned himself right in front of her.

“Ms. Wheeler, you’re clear.  I’ve updated your keycard access for the day.  Your employee tracking bracelet’s been updated as well.  Mr. Yu is on Sublevel Thirty. Don’t stray.”

“Of course, Corporal, thank you.”

With the niceties concluded, she stepped into the secure elevator and descended into the Beast Below.  At least, that’s what the researchers she’d talked to called the top-secret wing of TranStar’s already secret underground installation buried beneath what was supposed to be a warehouse for the decommissioned Army base.  

Arrival on Sublevel Thirty revealed a...much more opulent floor than she’d seen in the Yakima Facility so far.  For one thing, the flooring was some kind of gorgeous hardwood, oak or mahogany probably, she never remembered which.  An elegant carpet stretched the length of the corridor. Offices lay at the end, with branching corridors leading to what were probably VIP quarters.  

Of course.  TranStar never skimped on its luxury.  Even on Talos 1.

Carolyn made a show of admiring a few of the landscape paintings along the way as well as the ornamental displays holding vases and antiques from China.  She was probably monitored at this point and she didn’t want to tip off her audience how nervous she was. Because she was. In the two years since the invasion of Earth, she’d never seen Alex Yu again and she’d been in no hurry to repeat the experience.  Meeting TranStar’s former CEO would almost certainly prompt more horrific memories of surviving the invasion and she didn’t know if she’d be able to keep her composure if that happened. In her line of work, composure mattered.

At last, she reached the end of the corridor and accessed the security point-of-entry, admitting her to a tastefully appointed sitting room complete with a desk for Alex’s executive assistant as well as a Looking Glass display presently showing some desolate beach in what was almost certainly Scotland.  

“Ms. Wheeler?” the admin asked, still seated behind her desk.  The label on her station read _Ira Chaudhary_.  The admin herself was a pretty young thing, mid twenties with black hair arranged to cascade decorously down her shoulders over the otherwise austere TranStar corporate uniform.  Carolyn knew makeup well enough to appreciate how much careful time and attention Ms. Chaudhary paid to hers.

“I believe Alex wanted to speak with me,” Carolyn said, coming to stop before the admin desk with her briefcase by her side, expression neutral.  She knew nothing of why she was here and obviously Alex and his admin knew she was coming but formalities still had to be observed.

“Yes, Ms. Wheeler, go right in.”

With an appreciative nod, Carolyn stepped to the door and walked through when it admitted her.  

Opulence remained the TranStar word of the day down here.  Every surface, floor, wall and ceiling, was a darkly burnished bamboo.  Books spilled out of several bookcases against the wall but they were as decorative as the series of display cases, various leather-bound upholstered chairs and a coffee table Carolyn was quite sure had come from somewhere royal.  Looking Glass displays on the walls projected the illusion of windows.

The sight of Talos 1’s arboretum outside was breathtaking.  Literally. Though the interior of this office was different, the visual impression of being back aboard the space station was so striking Carolyn realized she’d stopped breathing.  

“Ms. Wheeler, won’t you come in?”

Alex Yu rose from his desk at the far end of the room.  Though neatly organized, a keen eye could easily spot that this was the only part of his office that saw habitual use.  Alex wore a TranStar corporate uniform, same as any employee. On Talos, their suits were color coded but on Earth the uniforms remained the same, with only the waist-affixed key cards color coded to reveal corporate division.  

The heavy-set Yu looked solid, even massive in his uniform.  At least at first. A closer look as she approached revealed a face that’d aged, lost weight, gained grey in the hairline.  The events of the last two years had carved deep fault lines in the cracks of his face.

“Mr. Yu,” she said, coming to a stop before her former boss.  

As a public relations worker of her rank, she reported to the VP of News and Communications, who reported up to the CEO of TranStar.  Alex had been relieved of that title, so she’d heard. Down here, though, his offices and ability to clear her schedule suggested he’d lost none of his authority.  

“Have a seat.”

So, it was to be a real conversation then.  Nodding amicably, Carolyn chose one of the leather-backed chairs and settled in.  Alex took one facing her. He’d let her pick where to sit first, and hadn’t put himself behind his desk as reminder of his authority.  Interesting choice.

“Ms. Wheeler,” Alex continued.  “A lot’s happened since the last time we spoke on Talos.  Before we get to our agenda, I wanted to take the opportunity to say how sorry I am for what happened, to you personally.  You knew the risks, just as I did, but no one regrets the loss of life more than I do. I’ve spent the last two years doing everything in TranStar’s power to walk those mistakes back, accepting full responsibility for what happened to Talos, to Earth, to find a future for all of us.  I wanted you to know that.”

Oh my.  Carolyn’s nerves had been buzzing since the message from Alex this morning but her emotions had been a simmering mix of anxiety and disinterest to cover her fear of what was to come.  She hadn’t expected an apology, though.

And it made her _furious_.  

How _dare_ he apologize!  Billions of people, dead, because of TranStar’s research.  Because of Alex’s projects and the inadequate security measures taken.  Because no one had been careful enough to make sure Mimics weren’t on board the Space Shuttle _Advent_.  

Because she hadn’t seen them either.  Billions dead and it was her fault too and being furious with Alex Yu was a welcome relief from having to be so furious with herself.  

“I also want you to know it wasn’t your fault,” he said, after gravely studying her in the lingering pause of the conversation.  

“Thank you, Mr. Yu,” she said.  Years of PR made it reflexive to sound sincere, appreciative, dutifully subordinate.

“I mean that, Carolyn.”  He studied her a moment more.  “It’s time you knew. They weren’t on your shuttle.”

“Beg pardon?”

“Two years ago, it wasn’t the Advent.  Satellite and onsite cameras put Talos I in the clear.  It was another shuttle. From the Moon. Still TranStar, still our responsibility.  But not yours.”

“Why hadn’t I-”

But she knew, of course.  TranStar had hushed the whole matter up.  Public relations were always far better informed than most people outside of the corporation suspected, in large part because of their need to research and prepare statements in advance of secrets breaking to the public.  But at the time, she hadn’t been working public relations.

Sue had been the air traffic manager for TranStar’s Seattle office.  Ground zero for the initial outbreak. Months of time lay under the anesthetizing fog of distant trauma and a steady refusal to go near that part of her memory.  Someone else in public relations had handled it.

And she would never have known, if not for Alex.

Carolyn flinched at the effort it took to cudgel her brain into analyzing the angles.  People were her specialty but it took objectivity to be effective. With something this personal, she was neither objective nor effective.  

So she sniffled and nodded once.  “You’re sure?”

“Talk to Renna Baker, you know who she is.  Tell her I said so. You can see for yourself.”  An empty offer, given she’d never take him up on that.  Watching camera feed of the outbreak risked seeing Sue die and if she saw that, Carolyn was reasonably certain she’d tug one of those soldiers’ pistols out of their holsters and shoot herself on her way out.  

“Thank you.”  For if she’d never do it, it was apparently an offer made in good faith.

“Don’t mention it.”  

Carolyn’s eyes shifted as she caught the nuance in the tone.  She had enough composure back to discern several layers of meaning there.  The casual. The ‘you can’t tell anyone’. And beneath both, a sincere ‘it’s the least I can do’.  

“Was there anything else you wanted to see me about, Mr. Yu?”

The heavyset former CEO leaned backwards in his chair for a moment.  A face like his had the frown practically carved into it and she saw it in full force.  When he leaned forward, she knew enough already to know this might be the most personally important meeting she’d ever been in with the man.

“There’s been a development, Ms. Wheeler.  I need to be off-site for the next week and, unfortunately, it’s at a critical time for something I’ve been working on here.  I need you to…”

“Mr. Yu?”  The pause was unusual.  Alex Yu was many things but rarely at a loss for words.  

“I need you to be yourself.  I’ll leave more formal instructions tonight but what I need right now is someone I can trust.  And I believe I can trust you, Ms. Wheeler. You’re the right person for this.”

“You want me to...talk to an experiment?”  

“You won’t be alone.  Some old friends will be on hand to help, they’ll take care of the experimental procedures.  What I need from you is to be a bridge. Of every human being on Earth, you’re practically the only one who can be.”

Carolyn nodded.  People work was her specialty after all.  When Alex rose without further explanation, she rose with him.  He circled his expensive, disused furnishings and settled himself back behind his desk.  

“My admin will give you directions,” he said, tilting his head towards the door.  She almost made it before he spoke up again behind her. “And Ms. Wheeler? When I’m back next week, you’ll have a month’s leave.  In London Camp, airfare all handled. My word on it.”

Once more, the wheels turned in Carolyn’s head.  What was his angle? She’d already agreed to go along with this unusual request.  He let her choose the seat, tendered an apology first and then led with an assignment, offering the reward after the fact.  There were a couple of ways she could think of for him to play this situation that would work better, and he knew how to work people well enough to do it.  Why this approach?

Still thinking, she gave him a nod and stepped out.  

Ira Chaudhary looked up from her terminal before spinning it around to display a floor plan.  Of course, the admin could have sent a copy to Carolyn’s transcribe but that would have left a record and this was clearly not that kind of assignment.  

So Carolyn took her time walking down corridors made up to resemble antique manor houses long since razed in the invasion.  It’d be a long time before she saw beauty like this again. Maybe not in her lifetime. TranStar might find a way to win but even if they could wipe out every Typhon tomorrow, Earth would still be missing most of its population.  

Two more guards posted outside of another security door gave her a wary look, once she arrived.

“I’m expected?” she said with an indifferent shrug.  “Carolyn Wheeler.”

One checked his transcribe, then nodded and waved her through.  Upon entering, Carolyn promptly forgot the two men entirely. She’d stepped into a comfortable studio suite, one shockingly familiar.  A bed in one corner, kitchen on the other, a workspace next to a living area...and a wall-length sea of glass overlooking San Francisco.  Looking Glass, obviously. But a view she’d seen so many times before.

She’d just stepped into Morgan’s simulation.  

Except this time, Morgan sat in her workstation chair, combing through emails and several reference works, by the looks of it.  Dear God, had she been wiped again? But then why had Alex sent her in here?

Abruptly, Morgan spun on her chair and peered at her.  The elegant complexion was striking, ethnic with her Chinese/German heritage, and with a certain fierce intelligence in those rather pretty eyes.  The expression on that face was striking too; fierce yes but also curious.

“Dr. Yu?  It’s Carolyn.  Carolyn Wheeler?  I’m not sure what you remember…”

Morgan’s expression cleared as recognition flashed in those dark eyes.  She tilted her head slightly and the gaze sharpened, a head to toe examination as if looking for faults.  Or checking her out, unlikely as that was.

“Alex sent me,” Carolyn continued.  “He wanted me to look in on an experiment for him?  Suppose you’d be mixed up in it, of course. Don’t imagine you have coffee?  I haven’t had a chance to get a cup and, judging by how this day’s already been, I’m not likely to.”

Nodding, the younger Yu slid out of her workstation and stepped confidently into her kitchen.  A brief examination of her cupboards turned up coffee pods which were fed to the coffee maker. In moments, an enticing smell of brewing filled the air.  

“I didn’t realize you were here.  At the-” Carolyn bit off revealing the name of the base, as she realized this might be part of the experiment.  “Well, at your flat, anyway. I don’t remember ever coming here before but Alex...he can be a patient man but he wasn’t especially patient about this request.  Which is why I’m here.”

While the coffee brewed, Morgan swiftly deposited last night’s dishes into the cleaning station while Carolyn walked to examine the view.  Breathtaking. Her gaze drifted from the Golden Gate Bridge to the viewscreen mounted on the wall nearby. Among other things, it displayed the date.  Accurately. That was one theory done away with, at least.

Morgan pressed a cup of coffee into her hands before gesturing for her to sit down on one of the black leather-bound chairs while TranStar’s former Vice President of Research settled onto the couch.  Once both women were comfortable, Carolyn filled the silence with a sip from her coffee.

No bite from Morgan.  People didn’t like awkward silences.  They naturally tried to fill the space with conversation.  Police interrogators had long since learned the trick too; let a suspect talk long enough and they’ll eventually tell you what you want to know.  Public relations had always known the technique. Only this time, Morgan seemed willing to wait it out.

Not the Morgan that Carolyn was used to.  But a lot could happen over two years.

“Dr. Yu, let me be candid with you.  I don’t know the nature of your work here, or what Alex’s experiment is.  I’m not even sure what I’m doing here, to be honest. He said he’d update me with instructions later today but he left me with no guidance for this conversation.  So, why don’t you tell me what you’ve been up to and I’ll see how I can help, shall I?”

Morgan stared at her a moment longer.  There was a curious flatness to it, an absence of calculated expectation.  Perhaps an absence of any expectation at all. Was that genuine surprise?

Then the former VP rose from her couch and padded barefoot across the apartment floor to slide back onto her terminal workstation’s chair.  She tapped several buttons and brought up a video by the time Carolyn followed her around the fabrication counterspace.

A recording played out before her.  Alex in a small room filled with monitors and a quartet of Operators.  Strapped to a table was a Mimc. The sight of it instantly stole Carolyn’s breath and she actually took a step back.  Morgan watched her instead of the video, and her expression seemed a little sad.

_“I need to know if you see us.  I mean, really see us.”_

Alex and four Operators, standing around an examination table.  A Typhon strapped to it, an impossible Typhon. Larger than most Greater Mimics, smaller than a Phantom, it held a human shape.  Not the suggestion of humanity with shadowy indistinct lines but the same oily shadow substance of the Mimic bound into the silhouette of a woman.  

Then Alex reached out his hand and the Typhon took it, shaking his while changing hers.  Changing from shadow to human flesh. Carolyn had seen a video report of a Greater Mimic imitating a human (badly) but never something as flawless as this.  

Morgan looked at Alex from the table as he leaned over to speak.   _“We’re going to shake things up.  Like old times.”_  And she _smiled_.

“Morgan, what is-”

Horror kicked in a second too late.  


	2. Chapter 2

Carolyn threw herself backwards, knocking half of the materials of the workbench to scatter across the studio flat.  Her back hit the door as she scrambled for the exit toggle. Her hand found it and she smashed it open. The two soldiers in the hallway immediately spun in place, leveling their rifles in towards the Typhon in the chair.

Morgan hadn’t moved.  Except to raise her hands.  A gesture of surrender? How the hell had a Typhon even figured out what holding one’s hands up meant?  Then the Typon’s shoulders sagged and it turned around on its chair, facing its terminal once more. Fingers flew across the keyboard but it made no hostile motion her way.

“You alright, Ma’am?” one of the soldiers asked.  

“I-I’m not sure.  I’m-”

“Camera feed looks clean,” said the other soldier.  “You’re fine, Ma’am. No logs it did anything to you, and no gap in logs to indicate it covered anything up either.  You’re safe.”

“From it?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“What the hell was Alex thinking, putting me into a room with a ruddy Typhon?”

Carolyn’s transcribe pulsed once.  She glanced down at it, then lifted an incredulous eyebrow.  

* * *

CAROLYN WHEELER // EMAIL

**From** :     Morgan T Yu   
**To** :     Carolyn Wheeler   
**Cc** :       
**Subject** :     Can we talk? 

I've seen enough fear to know what it looks like.  I don’t blame you for being afraid of what I am. For what it’s worth, you’re safe with me.  I saved you once, Carolyn, I’m not about to see you come to harm now. Come in, drink your coffee and let’s talk.

-Morgan

* * *

“What _are_ you on about?” Carolyn called from the door of the flat, from the door of the experimental chamber cunningly designed to look like a flat.  

Morgan’s response was to spin in her chair until she faced the door.  She pushed the coffee mug down the now-cleared fabrication bench in a clear offering.  Or was it clear? Could she trust any nonverbal cue from this monster? Normally unconscious cues could be invaluable for gauging untrustworthy subjects but this wasn’t human.  

Of course, Mimics themselves didn’t seem to be possessed of any great intelligence.  They often mimicked things that stood out enough to draw attention to them, apparently unknowingly.  If this Typhon’s behavior seemed to carry tells, perhaps those tells were accurate in as much as the shape of Morgan was mimicked entirely, all of its flaws as well as features.  But there was no way to be sure. Other than to remember Alex presumably knew all of this. Kept this creature here under, in her estimation, inadequate guard. Positioned her to engage with it, for upwards of a week?  Had Alex sent her in to die?

While Carolyn deliberated, Morgan hopped off her workstool and walked purposely around the fabrication counter and into her little living room area.  With several swift presses on the main display, the Typhon wiped the nondescript time/date stamps and replaced it with a whiteboard surface. Which she promptly wrote on.  

_Close the door.  In or out, it’s up to you._

“And you’d let me go, just like that?”

_I have plenty of reading.  I won’t be bored._

The quirk of Morgan’s lips suggested a dry humor that struck Carolyn with its impossibility.  A Typhon with a sense of humor? Anything resembling a sense of humor?

“Let’s say that I do.  What then?”

_You could start by telling me if the Captain and Flight Engineer survived?_

“Who?”

Morgan glared slightly before wiping the display to make room for more text.   _Rebekah Smart, Joe Spires.  The Captain and Flight Engineer of the Shuttle Advent.  And Lietner. Did he and his assistant survive?_

“How-”  Carolyn stepped into Morgan’s flat, heedless of the door closing behind her.  She cautiously approached the Typhon standing before the wall-mounted display.  Morgan wore a TranStar corporate uniform like hers but the monster had evidently opted not to bother with shoes.  Of course, given this was ‘home’, perhaps she felt more comfortable barefooted.

Once again, ascribing human motivations to an alien.  

“How do you know anything about the _Advent_?” Carolyn asked at last.  

_That’s complicated.  Get your coffee, have a seat and I’ll explain._

Morgan once more wiped her display while Carolyn obediently fetched her coffee cup.  Settling into the admittedly comfortable couch, she tracked sentence after sentence as Morgan wrote with long, bold strokes.  

The whole impossible story came out and the coffee cup was long since empty by the time Morgan teached the end.  

“Right.  You’re actually a Typhon who thinks its Morgan Yu, who remembers everything Morgan experienced at the end there.”

_It can be taught._

“...You can be taught?”

_You can be taught._

“I’m not an it.”

_Neither am I._

Carolyn’s mouth opened, froze, then shut silently.  This was an alien only pretending to be human. But this Morgan didn’t just think it...she was Morgan, no.  She thought _like_ Morgan, was prickly like Morgan.  Had the same impatience as the former VP.  

“You have all of Morgan’s memories?”

The Typhon frowned, a shade of expression so exact Carolyn recognized it from her past encounters with the younger Yu sibling.  She’d been asked a difficult question she didn’t think was important, and she didn’t care for it.

_No.  My earliest memory is waking up in a room like this and experiencing the simulation, including a helicopter ride, a test followed by the death of Dr. Bellamy.  Sylvian Bellamy. When I woke up next, I was still in the simulation but it’d begun to malfunction, and everyone around me dead. I have perhaps twenty hours of actual, simulated memory._

“How on earth are you carrying on a conversation with me now then?  You know how to draw? How to write?”

_Declarative memory wasn’t included in the connectome of Morgan I received.  Only non-declarative memory. I know how to operate a terminal, how to program a fabricator, how to use a TranStar uniform suit.  I know how to write._

“What’s the point of that?”

_Ask Alex_ .  Her writing was dramatic, the strokes hinting of some frustration.   _If you’d like an educated guess, he didn’t want a Typhon that thought it_ _was_ _Morgan.  He wanted a Typhon who thought_ _like_ _Morgan.  Like a human.  Who saw humans as people and not prey._

“If you know how to do everything Morgan could do, why don’t you talk?”

Morgan’s eyes narrowed.  Then she frowned. Experimentally, the Typhon inhaled and opened her mouth.  The lips moved but nothing came out. No air either. Not a lack of vocal cords, probably, depending on how well the Typhon could mimic the human body.  Lack of something to say?

“What’s your name?” Carolyn asked.  Her knees drew together as she leaned forward, awaiting the answer.  

“Morgan Yu.”  

The voice was a little hoarse but the pitch was perfect.  So was the cadence and the delivery. Morgan looked visibly surprised, if Carolyn correctly judged the expression.  It wasn’t a look she’d ever seen on the real woman’s face but the widening of the eyes and tension in the cheeks were telltale cues.  Again, assuming the creature didn’t consciously manipulate reactions that were unconscious for humans.

“You ought to consider another name, you know.  I don’t imagine the Yu’s will thank you for hearing you claim her name.”

Morgan didn’t say anything.  Didn’t react at all for a long moment.  Then her attention shifted to the door, just before it opened.  An Operator floated into the room, hovering silently on its anti-gravitational thrusters.  The bulbous camera at the base rotated slightly as it sized them both up. Then it pushed off, drifting through the air towards the living room area where they both sat.  

“Can I help you?” Carolyn asked.

Being polite was simply habit by this point.  Especially if this particular Operator had stored the connectome of a TranStar employee.  It was a ghoulish practice she still hadn’t made her peace with yet. Mostly because, well, a small part of her still subscribed to the notion that death actually meant something.  

“Ms. Wheeler,” the Operator said, acknowledging her.  “Examination of the subject is required to comply with my directives.”

Morgan seemed untroubled by the request.  Instead, she looked at Carolyn as she leaned back against the wall next to the monitor.  As the Operator approached and initiated some kind of medical scan, she said “Science units have been doing this hourly since I woke up-”

The Typhon stopped speaking a moment and her expression shifted subtly.  From indifference to wariness, even controlled alarm. A moment later, the reason why became instantly apparent.  This was a Pyramid 580 Medical-class Operator, not one of the Sybil series of Science Operators. Why the change?

As the question occurred, the Operator lifted two examination arms to either side of Morgan’s head before running a crackling electrical current between them, dropping the Typhon to the ground.  Then it rotated on its jets to face Carolyn.


	3. Chapter 3

“Operator, I’m Carolyn Wheeler.  Employee 001118956. Confirm?”

The sight of the Operator attacking the Typhon Morgan with electricity had felt like a shock to her as well.  Carolyn sprang from the couch, backed away and repeated her identification while holding up her keycard as the Pyramid 580 class Operator drifted her direction.  Its arms were still upraised.

What the hell had happened here?  Had someone hacked it? She remembered seeing video of Operators corrupted by Technopathic Typhon but this didn’t seem nearly as crazed.  Or at all. It had floated right up to Morgan’s Mimic and attacked before either of them noticed anything was wrong at all.

Carolyn backpedaled around the sofa.  The Operator stopped where she’d been, hovered a moment, then unsealed a part of its casing.  One manipulation arm reached inside and produced a coffee cup. A cup it tossed on the ground in front of her.  

The faint shift of static warned Carolyn to dive for cover just as a Mimic abruptly erupted from where the cup had been.  Arms flailed, lashing out to strike the fabrication bench and Morgan’s bed. She’d rolled herself over that bed, dropped on the other side and looked frantically for something to defend herself with.  A nightstand, not much help. A closet with...shoes? Bags? Ridiculous. A painting on the wall of some kind of...cell?

With a skittering cry, oily shadow rolled around the edge of the bed and she was out of time.  It lunged and she snatched up the nearest thing that came to hand; a thick grey comforter spread over the bed.  The rumpled sheets buried the creature, enfolding it like a net even as she felt its alien, unnatural strength squirming to tear through.  The horror of it was too much; she dropped the bundle and dove over the bed once more, making straight for the door.

Except the Operator now hovered in front of the exit, arms held up with a current running between them.  

Instead, she dashed across the room and ran into the bathroom.  It wasn’t much but it locked and it was a thin, precious barrier between herself and the death coming to claim her.  Carolyn cried out as she felt the wood shudder from the first impact. Tears spilled from her eyes at the second impact but she dug in, back against it despite the fear of those tentacles punching through wood into flesh.  She had to hold!

A much harder impact nearly knocked the door in.  Gasping, Carolyn slid down the length of wood until her forehead pressed against her knees as she sat on the floor.  The frame shuddered several more times in rapid succession. Then something outside blew up, with a raw burning sizzle of fried electronics and the myriad of tings from scattering metal fragments.  

A minute later, she heard a knock at the door.  Three times.

“...Who is it?” she asked, hating the way panic made her voice go all squeaky.  

“It’s Morgan.  You can come out now.”

“Blimey!  How do I know it’s you?”

“How do you know you’re you?”

Carolyn blinked, then craned her neck around to look at the door, as if she could somehow look through it.  “What?”

“Don’t ask existential questions if you aren’t ready to be asked.”  Morgan’s voice through broken but still intact frame sounded...amused.  Almost cheerful.

Slowly, Carolyn pushed herself back up to her feet and thumbed the lock dial.  Or tried to. Stubbornly, it wouldn’t budge. She tried again, then twisted with both hands but she couldn’t get it to move.  The bathroom couldn’t be locked from the outside, could it? More probably, the repeated blows to the door had warped the locking mechanism.  

“I’m...well, I could use a little help.  I’m stuck. Won’t open.”

“Stand back.”

As actually standing back would have put her against the sink and not far enough from the door, Carolyn opted to step to the left out of the path of fire.  A second later, fingers pierced the wooden frame, clenched and then the whole door tore off its hinges. Awed despite herself, she gingerly tilted to peer out of the newly exposed bathroom doorway.  Morgan leaned the entirely broken door against the kitchen bar counter before brushing her hands off and turning back.

A faint smile creased those full lips.  Carolyn suddenly wondered what shade of lipstick Morgan preferred and how she’d look with it on.  Nonsense, especially given this wasn’t the real Morgan. Maybe that was the reason for the thought.  The real Morgan had been far too intimidating and had never smiled like that.

“You seem cheery,” Carolyn observed.

“My brother wanted me to be empathetic, able to handle high stress situations while doing the right thing. The simulation that provided the basis for my declarative memory used the Talos I incident, which naturally involved waking up in a simulation within the simulation and trying to survive the outbreak much as Morgan did the first time.”

“Like this, you mean?”

Morgan’s smile widened slightly.  “I’ve been…”

“Don’t say bored.”

“Adapting,” the Typhon said instead.  “Having guests or interruptions that weren’t life or death took getting used to.  You, actually.” She brushed a lock of wavy black hair back off her brow. “You’re the first person I’ve met to ask me questions.  To keep asking me questions. I’m used to being told what to do or knowing what to do next. This is familiar at least. Mostly. At this point, my transcribe should be getting a call telling me why that Operator tried to kill me.”

They both looked down at the transcribe attached to Morgan’s belt.  Several seconds went by before they glanced up at each other once more.  This time, Carolyn shared Morgan’s smile.

“Well, I don’t fancy murder attempts.  I’d better report this.”

She walked to the door and swiped her keycard.  It didn’t yield. Frowning, Carolyn bent over the keypad and scanned her ID bracelet before at last resorting to her private employee code.  Nothing. At which point Morgan stepped in beside her.

With practiced fingers, the Typhon drew her transcribe and remotely accessed the keypad.  Complex code flashed across the screen, pulsing like a heartbeat or a countdown. Morgan’s face took on an expression of grim concentration as her fingers expertly manipulated the transcribe’s virtual controls.  

Abruptly, the keypad pulsed again with the familiar ‘access granted’ tones and the door slid open.  Revealing the two soldiers who immediately pivoted, aimed their rifles and fired.

The rapport of automatic fire deafened Carolyn in the enclosed space of Morgan’s flat.  She dropped instantly, hands pressed over her ears, expecting bullets to find their mark.  They didn’t. She realized her eyes were clenched tightly shut and, with enormous effort, she opened them.  One guard lay prone before her, blood trickling from his nose and a certain laxity in his neck suggesting unconsciousness or possibly death.  His rifle lay in pieces, snapped cleanly in half.

Morgan stood in the entryway, holding the other assault rifle.  She ejected the magazine, examined it, and snapped it back in. Bending over the incapacitated guard, she swiftly searched his belt and produced several more magazines which she tucked into the waistbelt of her TranStar corporate uniform.  

The Typhon’s eyes lifted to meet Carolyn’s.  “Get the pistol and the additional ammunition from the other one.”

“What?”  Carolyn dropped her hands from her ears and slowly rose to her feet.  “Where is-”

“Behind you.”

Sure enough, while she’d evidently cowered on the floor, Morgan had somehow thrown the other guard over her.  His armored body lay draped over Morgan’s fabrication bench, one arm swinging loosely. The other arm had knocked the workstation terminal there right off the desk.  No more email for the Typhon.

Feeling oddly giddy, Carolyn approached the guard and relieved him of his pistol before fetching the additional ammunition.  Morgan accepted the bullets readily enough but raised an eyebrow when Carolyn tried to pass her the pistol.

“Do you know how to shoot?”

“I-well, Sarah Elazar drilled anyone working on Talos I in the basics but it’s been years since-”

“Just remember: There’s the safety.  Don’t put your finger on the trigger until you’re ready to shoot.  Don’t aim the pistol until you’re ready to shoot. Don’t aim it at your feet either.”  Morgan frowned at her and it wasn’t...well, it wasn’t an _unpleasant_ frown exactly but it was the most critical expression she’d seen on the Typhon.  It was _very_ familiar expression for the woman this Typhon had been turned into, though.  

Carolyn instantly resolved not to give her rescuer a reason to look at her like that again.  “I’ll do my best, Morgan,” she said.

“I have an idea.  We’ll see if it’s needed.”  The Typhon’s attention shifted from the pistol to Carolyn’s face, then down to her belt.  “Have you tried your transcribe? Can you call for help?”

Good Lord.  It was just as well the monster in this room was on her side because it was obviously much smarter than she’d been.  Carolyn felt an uncharacteristic blush heat her cheeks, an experience she hadn’t felt in years. Public relations drilled involuntary responses out of a woman in a hurry but evidently life and death situations had a way of overriding training.  Who knew?

She drew her transcribe, thumbed open its menu and toggled open her work account.  For about twenty seconds, Carolyn had access and had the beginnings of an email drafting when the transcribe abruptly logged her out.  She pressed her contacts list next, only to squeak a protest when Morgan snatched the device out of her hand. The Typhon thumbed through menus with practiced speed, arriving in a slew of screens Carolyn had never seen before...just as the whole transcribe went dead.  

“Someone killed your access remotely,” Morgan said, tossing the transcribe back to Carolyn, who barely caught it with her left hand seeing as her right was still occupied with holding a pistol.  “If this were Talos I, I would think Dahl is after us. I don’t think Dahl would use an Operator as a delivery mechanism for a Mimic-as-weapon, though. That was...clever,” the Typhon admitted, and her face bore a grudging respect.  “Technopaths have learned a great deal in the last two years. Though that doesn’t-”

“Explain the guards?” Carolyn finished.  “Damn you, Alex. What have you gotten me into?”

“This isn’t him,” Morgan insisted.  “My brother wouldn’t do this.”

“He’s not your brother, though.”

“I know what kind of man he is,” Morgan insisted.  “Is he still the CEO of TranStar?”

“Uh, no.  The public word is he took over your counterpart’s old job as Head Researcher for TranStar R&D to solve the problems TranStar made.  Personally, I suspect his parents had him ousted and this is a demotion. Though I don’t know why...oh.”

“Oh?”  Morgan looked curious.

“Well, I guess I can imagine why William and Catherine Yu might want a Typhon who looks like their daughter dead.”

The Typhon in question grimaced and looked strangely regretful.  Then she hoisted the assault rifle and stepped out into the opulent hallway of Sublevel Thirty.  Each step was deliberate, unhurried yet strange quiet for all that. Carolyn followed in her wake, acutely conscious that her heels made too much noise.  With regrets of her own, she slipped her feet out of them and padded after in her stockings instead.

Once more, Carolyn stood in the relics of Old Earth, saw expensive carpets handmade by dead people, saw displays holding pottery or paintings made by more dead people interspersed with large potted shrubs immaculately groomed to within an inch of perfection.  This was the kind of place for impressing the kind of visiting dignitary that didn’t visit anymore because they were all dead too. It wasn’t the kind of place to have a gun fight. But then, there weren’t any soldiers in immediate evidence either.

Until four of them suddenly rounded the corner from the corridor leading to the secured elevator.  Two dropped to one knee as they raised their rifles. The other two stopped behind them and drew back their arms to throw grenades.  

At which point Morgan exploded into action.  

The Typhon brushed against Carolyn and the impact knocked the public relations worker to the ground.  With one bent knee, Morgan suddenly sprinted straight down the hallway moving at a speed to rival an Olympic athlete.  Bullets erupted in fiery tongues from the ends of those assault rifles yet Morgan didn’t shoot back. Instead, the Typhon leaped like she meant to clear a pole vault and sailed down the hall feet first before impacting right in the midst of the group.  

Carolyn went momentarily blind as both grenades struck near her.  Instead of exploding, they released some kind of nauseating purplish light that left her faintly ill.  Blinking, she peered through fading display at the action unfolding.

Two of the soldiers were sprawled from Morgan’s impact and the Typhon had fallen heavily on the two shooters who’d been kneeling.  As her back hit the floor, she seized each of the guards she’d landed on and slammed their helmeted heads together. Springing to her feet, she thrust her hands at the two in the back that she’d staggered with her feet.  Something _twisted_ in space but the pair ignored it, whatever it was, and drew pistols that they fired with incredible speed.  This time, the bullets ripped into Morgan and the Typhon flinched before slapping the guns right out of their hands.  

They went for another sidearm and Morgan struck like a sledgehammer.  One mighty blow smashed the first _through_ the wooden-paneled corridor wall, caving in the drywall beneath.  The second went flying backwards when Morgan crouched and delivered a follow up punch straight against the breastplate of his armored stomach.  He must have gone a good forty feet before crashing against the end of the hallway, slamming against the cage warding the elevator.

“Jesus Christ!”

For the...what, the fourth time?  Fifth time? However many times it’d been, Carolyn picked herself off the floor _yet again_ and staggered over to join her reocurring rescuer.  

“Are you-”

“I’m fine,” Morgan said, walking back to retrieve the assault rifle she’d dropped in her mad dash.  

Blood trickled down the Typhon’s TranStar corporate uniform but she didn’t seem especially hampered by her wounds.  Carolyn’s gaze dropped to some of the spatters of blood ruining that fabulously expensive carpeted hallway floor. The blood was red.  It was red? How did that work? Wouldn’t the blood go back to being Typhon blood? That black splattery stuff that smelled like ozone and chemicals?  Instead, the air was ripe with the heady scent of biting copper.

“You didn’t shoot them,” Carolyn observed, poking her way between the guards.  Definitely unconscious. Probably had a few broken bones a piece but they were alive.

“Of course I didn’t shoot them,” Morgan said, sounding exactly as exasperated as the original Morgan had been.  The Typhon dripped blood as she walked by the downed soldiers and accessed a security terminal next to the elevator.  Once more, she drew her transcribe and remoted into the terminal, piercing its protective firewall in a relentlessly methodical fashion.  

A moment later, Morgan downloaded a map of Sublevel Thirty.  Then, as an afterthought, she forwarded a copy to Carolyn’s transcribe as well.  

“You could have.”

“Yes."

“Why didn’t you?”

Morgan didn’t answer.  Carolyn peered over her shoulder as the Typhon slipped her transcribe away and returned to the security terminal.  Tabbing rapidly, both of them scanned the subject lines of emails and other pending orders.

* * *

CYRUS BENNETT // EMAIL

**From** :     Dimitri Pipenko   
**To** :    Cyrus Bennett

**Cc** :     Sublevel 20+   
**Subject** :     ! Urgent Handling 

Internal sensors show Mr. Yu’s pet project has gone rogue and is to be shut down immediately.  Kill on sight. Use Nullwave Grenades. All Yakima Facility staff should be escorted to safety and debriefed for any possible contamination.  Elevator lockdown is in effect until confirmation of target elimination is received. 

\- Dimitri

* * *

"Bloody hell.”  Carolyn grimaced, realized she’d started waving her pistol around in frustration and promptly pointed it down.  And shifted her aim a moment later, after realizing she’d aimed at her foot.

With sure touches on the touchscreen, the Typhon accessed some kind of camera utility and turned it off before locking it behind a codewall.  “We need to leave this facility,” Morgan muttered.

Raising an eyebrow, Carolyn asked “And how do you imagine we’ll manage that?”

Morgan lowered her transcribe and tucked it away.  She bent to retrieve her purloined assault rifle and briefly inspected, probably to make sure nothing broke when she’d dropped it.  The Typhon seemed reluctant to answer, much as she’d been seemingly reluctant to admit her motives behind her use of non-lethal force.  

At last, Morgan said, “I’m used to getting a transcribe call or an email or something to point me to what I’m supposed to do next.”

“This isn’t a simulation,” Carolyn said, repressing a smile if only because she knew how poorly it would be received.  

“The Talos I simulation is the only experience I have to draw upon.”

“What do you remember from before the simulation?”

Morgan’s lips twitched.  It might have been a smirk but it was more likely a grimace.  The tension around her eyes, in the lines of her face, suggested some kind of unpleasant association.  “Some things,” she admitted. “That we don’t have time to talk about now. This Dimitri Pipenko must know by now his soldiers have failed to contain me.  He’ll be sending more. I took out the cameras but that won’t stop him. And according to this floorplan, this elevator is the only point of access. I need to gain entry to the elevator, pass through Sublevel Ten’s security checkpoint and then get to the main elevator up to the Yakima Facility.  It’s too many checkpoints.”

“TranStar’s Security all have psychoscopes and there are scanners that check for exotic materials.  There’s a reason the Typhon haven’t taken this place, Morgan. Well, that and we’re out in the middle of nowhere.”

“There has to be another way.”  Morgan’s brow creased with thought.  “How sensitive are the scanners?”

“Meaning what exactly?”

“They can detect Mimics?”

“Oh yes.”  Carolyn pondered.  “I believe they have a chipset of some kind that lets them see both the ordinary kind and the greater variety.”

“What about other kinds of exotic material?”

“Beg pardon?”

Morgan’s grimace straightened slightly into an unmistakable smirk.  “How do they react to humans who’ve used Neuromods?”

“Oh, they’re trained to pass right over those but that doesn’t do you much good, does it?”

“What about a Neuromod itself?”

“I-”  Carolyn paused and thought about it.  “Naturally, I’m not an expert on Neuromod security and handling, you understand.  But I believe they’re carried in a special case. I’ve seen a researcher go through security one one, anyway.  You think a Typhon might slip through while mimicking something with Typhon material in it?”

“If they had someone to carry them.”  

Morgan’s gaze was intent.  Carolyn shifted uncomfortably as she realized what this meant.  And what it would mean.

Right now, she was an innocent in all of this.  She’d come down under orders from Alex Yu, left his office with clear confirmation from his admin, and was seen by cameras going into Morgan’s flat.  Depending on how camera security was regulated, perhaps Security didn’t have access to what exactly happened inside that room and perhaps they did.

If they didn’t, they’d know Carolyn had come out with some kind of advanced Mimic that looked like Morgan Yu who then assaulted all those guards and locked out the cameras.  It might look like they were working together.

If they did?  Oi. They’d know the Typhon had saved her life, repeatedly, as well as the contents of all their conversations to now.  

The problem was she couldn’t think of a cover story that had room for both outcomes.  If they saw inside the room, the smart thing would be to submit to Security and explain there’d been an assassination attempt of sorts on the experiment.  Unless of course it wasn’t assassination because it was authorized in which case...she’d be signing Morgan’s death warrant right there.

If they couldn’t see into the room…

“I’m thinking,” Carolyn said, noticing Morgan shuffling her feet.  For good reason. Any second now-

And then she was out of seconds.  The elevator shaft hummed as a car descended.  And Carolyn still hadn’t even decided if or why she should risk her career or her life for a Typhon.  

“Just tell me if the Captain and Flight Engineer of the _Advent_ survived,” Morgan said, almost too quietly to hear over the rising volume of the incoming elevator car.  

A look of peace crossed the Typhon’s perfectly mimicked face.  Morgan wanted to know because she didn’t expect to survive this encounter.  In what she thought were her last moments, the Typhon’s thoughts were on the people she saved.  Whatever she was, this Morgan deserved more than a bullet.

Carolyn smiled sadly and said “I don’t know.  But we all made it to Earth.” Then she held out her hand before turning her palm upwards.  Morgan glanced down at it for a moment, peered back at her.

And then the elevator doors opened, and a pack of twelve TranStar Security Guards surrounded a public relations worker holding a Neuromod in her hand.  


	4. Chapter 4

“Ms. Wheeler, what’s your condition?”

Carolyn blinked at the light in her eyes.  Portable suit torches brightened the immediate area as twelve TranStar Security Guards circled her.  She stood in the elevator lobby of Sublevel Thirty of TranStar’s Yakima Facility, Behind her, four of the soldiers stationed on this sublevel lay strewn about like a tornado had ripped through them.  

Clenched in her hand, she held a neuromod that was actually the most impossible Typhon she’d ever encountered.  A Typhon she’d evidently chosen to save.

“I’m fine.  Look, fine. It’s sorted.  All this. No casualties even.”

“Where’s the Typhon, Ms. Wheeler?” the lead Security Officer said.  He gestured to his team and eight of them peeled off to jog down the corridor, rifles at the ready.  

“Dead.  In its room.  Told you, didn’t I?  I sorted it. I...what else could I do?  Where’s Mr. Yu?”

“Ma’am, look into my psychoscope.  Open your eyes and stay very still.”  The Security Guard leaned one way, then another and finally bent close enough that his helmet almost touched her nose.  “You’re not Mindjacked at least. What happened here?”

The lies rolled off her lips, nestled in a grain of truth.  “Mr. Yu called me down here. Wanted me to consult with...well, he didn’t exactly say.  His Admin, Ira I think her name was? She gave me directions and when I went, I saw Morgan.  Morgan Yu, if you can imagine. We had a talk but when I tried to leave, your Security tried to kill us both.  She...I’ve never seen someone move that fast.”

“The Typhon didn’t attack you?”

“No, she...I mean it, it was like Dr. Yu.  I’d met Dr. Yu before and I didn’t realize-”

“Christ, they can mimic _people_ now?” said one of the other soldiers holding rifles.

“It was utterly convincing.  Must have been the experiment Mr. Yu was talking about.  I wouldn’t have known except your soldiers attacked us and she struck back.  Then she rampaged her way down the hall. She, the Typhon, it didn’t kill them though.  I don’t know why.”

"Found the Typhon,” said one of the other soldiers at the side of the Security Officer.  “In the experimental room.”

“Right,” Carolyn said, letting out a sigh of relief.  So, confirmation that the Operator using a Mimic as an assassin wasn’t part of the same plot as that email instructing those guards to kill Morgan.  Or it meant the Technopath had learned to manipulate humans in a way that didn’t seem possible. No. Maybe there were sensors in Morgan’s flat that reacted to the Operator’s destruction or to the Mimic that’d tried to kill her.  Perhaps no cameras Security could access but enough to alert them to trouble and assume the worst.

Perhaps.  

“You’re saying this Typhon took out six of my best men and you got the drop on it?  Mind telling me how, Ma’am?” The Security Officer sounded understandably skeptical behind his faceless TranStar Security Suit.  

“She went back to her flat, to use her workstation I think.  I kept asking her questions and I realized...well, she’d been shot a dozen times you see and I realized no one human could still be going after all that.  So I shot it. From behind. In the head. And it turned back into a Mimic and I knew I’d done the right thing.”

The Security Officer was expressionless under his psychoscope.  Then he said, “Daniels, McAdams, get her to the Med Lab on Sublevel Five and get her checked out. Charleston, get some medics down here for our casualties.  Everyone else, full sweep. Let’s make sure there aren’t any other surprises.”

Carolyn didn’t bother to restrain the sigh of relief that abruptly fled her lungs.  It was still morning, still early, and already she felt exhausted. The rapid pace of revelation, almost dying several times over, had taken its toll.  It was easy to let the shock of the situation and her fatigue out, especially as they helped cover any other tells she might have from nerves. After all, she wasn’t a security expert and they might have a way to notice the Neuromod in her hand wasn’t exactly a Neuromod…

But neither guard did.  They were silent as the three of them entered the elevator and took it back up to Sublevel Twenty.  

Passing the security checkpoint was thankfully expedited.  Carolyn submitted to a thorough search, turned over the pistol she’d received from Morgan earlier and held onto the Neuromod.  One of the checkpoint guards did ask “Ma’am, what’s the neuromod for?” but his accomplice thankfully shushed him before she had to invent a lie to cover things up with.  As it turned out, evidently anything from below Sublevel Twenty wasn’t the kind of thing these TranStar Security Guards were in a position to know about.

That luck didn’t quite last.  

Within twenty minutes, they’d reached the main Yakima Facility elevator and sped on their way up to Sublevel Five.  Carolyn still didn’t speak, not trusting the steadiness of her voice nor needing to know anything from her escort anyway.  Once they arrived, she was happy enough to follow in their wake as they took her past the conference rooms, dining area, rec and exercise rooms that provided work/life balance for the elite TranStar researchers originally intended to operate from this facility.  Now, the rooms were crowded with refugees and survivors, with the families of soldiers and scientists evacuated here from various parts of the country. There wasn’t enough room for everyone, not really. She expected to end up with a roommate within the next quarter, at this rate.

The actual Med Lab was a spacious affair, intended to serve the needs of hundreds of personnel.  Given it had been tasked with handling the requirements of a thousand or more, most of the beds were full, office rooms closed and the staff in general looked decidedly overworked.  The distinctive blue and black of the Security corporate uniform bumped her to the top of the queue, at least.

A minute later, she was subject to several scans by other Pyramid-class Operators.  Carolyn couldn’t repress a shiver of revulsion as the machines floated near her, given one had tried to kill her so recently.  The medical technician that followed up was a human being at least. One who asked a number of uncomfortable questions.

“Did you come into contact with this experimental Typhon?”

“I-” Carolyn searched her memory, couldn’t think of an immediate example only to realize that, of course, she _still held_ the Typhon in question in her pocket.  “Skin to skin contact. It looked like a human, though.  Same skin. Or at least I thought it was.”

 "It doesn’t look like it did anything to you mentally.  Your MRI’s come up clean. I think we can clear you.”

 "Alex Yu,” Carolyn said suddenly, just as the thought occurred to her.  “Where is he?”

“I’m not privy to his schedule details, Ms. Wheeler, but I believe he isn’t on base today.”  The earnest young man frowned slightly. “I understand there was a technical issue with your transcribe.  Did you need me to pass a message along?”

“Would you?  He’d want to know what happened here.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”  The medical technician turned to a tray holding her personal effects before fetching the Neuromod and holding it up.  “You came in with this on you. What’s in it?”

“I’m not a researcher, I’m afraid.”

“What’s loaded in it?” the technician said, without missing a beat.  Not a man easily mislead then.

“Something confidential,” Carolyn said, not missing a beat either.  “If you’d kindly?”

“Ms. Wheeler, you should be well aware that every Neuromod has to be accounted for, their locations tracked and utilization monitored.”  

His face was expressionless.  Though he didn’t look to be much older than his mid-twenties, there were men who’d go through their entire lives and not manage that degree of self-composure.  Carolyn had a hunch that Alex Yu in the same situation would get exactly the same tone and the same message.

“Right.  Well, I have it courtesy of Mr. Yu’s office so if you’d like to check with him?”

“It’s TranStar corporate policy that Neuromods not slated for installation be secured in our vaults, Ms. Wheeler.  If Mr. Yu issues a written exception that’s duly authorized by Neuromod Research, you can have it back. I don’t see such an authorization on file, however.”

Right.  This had gone on long enough.  Morgan seemed quiescent for the moment but then there wasn’t much a Neuromod could do either, without blowing her cover.  And why should she have to? The Typhon had saved Carolyn several times in the brief time they’d known each other. But Morgan didn’t have the monopoly on competence either.  

Carolyn had only marginal combat training but this was corporate policy.  This was people work. And in her field, there was no one better.

“I have no doubt that the Medical Center has a mandate to ensure an accurate inventory of any Neuromods that are sent to you for installation.  However, this one wasn’t. It only belongs to Neuromod Research if they can show a manifest for it, and I doubt they can produce it. Either way, you’re not Neuromod Research and that means you can sod off, can’t you.”

She slid off the examination table she’d been on and let her heels ring against the floor upon landing.  The technician backed up since his only other alternative was to be knocked back by her sudden rise. Instead, he produced his transcribe and swiftly keyed a message into it.  

“Go right ahead,” she said as she walked to the door.  “I’ll probably be in my quarters if you’d like to send Neuromod Research by.  Cheers!”

* * *

 

Naturally, Carolyn didn’t go back to her quarters.  Instead, she made for the central elevator and gave a polite nod to the TranStar Security who promptly checked her out.  Once more, the Neuromod in her hand drew their attention. Their psychoscopes picked up something, anyway. But when they asked her to turn over her hand, and she revealed the Neuromod, they only frowned and backed up a little.  

Apparently not _that_ unusual for TranStar employees to be walking around with Neuromods outside of laboratory controlled conditions after all.  

Carolyn bore the ride upstairs silently.  She emerged out of a sliding section of concrete-brick wall whitewashed like all the walls were.  The floor was more concrete, albeit smooth, glossy and sealed with a coat of something protective.  With high vaulted ceilings that rose in a gentle pyramid shape, hanging searingly bright lights from the exposed metal bracing, it made the whole place look unnaturally white.  At least the doors in the interior were red, which provided a smidgeon of color contrast.

Her hand tingled.  A moment later, Morgan walked beside her.  Carolyn wasn’t too proud to admit she almost leaped right out of her skin.  

“Thank you,” the Typhon Morgan said, and it...she sounded grateful.  

“I believe appreciation or congratulation of any kind is a touch premature, given we’re still in a high-security military facility.”

“But not in a part we’re expected.  At least, I’m not.” Morgan frowned.  “I need to know who targeted me.”

“And me,” Carolyn added.

“The Operator went for me first.  Their directives don’t make mistakes; I was the target.”  Morgan sighed. “And you were a witness. Or, perhaps, an opportunity.”

“Or just an accident, I suppose.”

Carolyn turned her head when she realized the lovely Typhon had come to a stop.  Dressed in a corporate uniform, this Morgan Yu’s professional look did little to diminish an appealing face or that familiar fire in her eyes.  The Typhon may not have the original’s memories but somehow she had something of the real Morgan’s essence, a certain zeal and energy Carolyn had seen before.  

“Were you?” Morgan asked.  

“Was I what?”

“An accident.”

It was Carolyn’s turn to frown.  “I imagine so. I was only there for, what, an hour?  Less? And I wasn’t scheduled for this. Alex contacted me earlier this morning, in fact.  Unless you think-”

“No.”  Morgan shook her head, then inclined it towards a door marked ‘Facility Inventory’.  “My brother wouldn’t. And he wouldn’t have bothered with all the pageantry, with an Operator carrying a Mimic.”

“Unless _he_ was the real target.”

A look of shock spread across those smooth features, followed by a tinge of grief around the eyes.  Remarkable, how a Typhon could emulate a human so closely, to render such nuanced expressions so expertly.  More remarkable, perhaps, was that this Morgan evidently felt the underlying emotions, or perhaps understood them well enough to know when they should be deployed.  

Either possibility frightened Carolyn.  

“Let’s find out,” Morgan said as she sliced into the codewall protecting the door’s electronic keypass system.  Seconds later, it opened.

Their luck had run hot so far.  No one had been in the halls. No one was in the stuffy room, cluttered with old manuals, ample cabinets and drawers likely holding more old paperwork and the accoutrements of a station closed off from the world.  Memories of Talos 1 drifted back, of cramped, confining workstations tucked away in corners and tiny offices. Space on a space station was at a premium, of course. But it didn’t mean people liked being stuffed away, and this facility had less of an excuse.

While Morgan sat down and hacked her way into someone’s workstation, Carolyn leaned back against the wall and watched the Typhon with a measuring look.  She’d been around the original Dr. Yu a fair amount, in their time on Talos. Watching this Morgan was like watching her. The mannerisms were the same, the way the eyebrows drew together in concentration or the sudden sharpness in body language when emotionally worked up.  

Could a Typhon have emotions?  Really? Carolyn remembered some of the prevailing theories tossed around in Psychotronic’s Lab B.  Rory Manion and Demian Linn had never envisioned a Typhon actually copying a person that well. Experiments with Mimics complex enough to master the human shape showed they could indeed copy the form of a person.  But never their substance.

She shuddered, remembering the sight of a rigid, statue-like copy of herself unbalancing and toppling to the floor.  

Manion and his technician, Kristine Lloyd, had eventually moved away from atomic replication to stranger theories involving adjacent dimensions or even illusionary fields.  But as Carolyn watched Morgan brush a lock of dark hair out of her face and bite her lower lip, the first made more sense. And yet, witness how bad they were at being people.  In humans, had Mimics found something they couldn’t outright copy?

Was there more to being human than this mere arrangement of atoms?  If so, what made this Morgan different than any other Mimic?

“Morgan?”

“Hmmm?”  The Typhon glanced her way.  

“Have you ever met the real Morgan?”

The Typhon frowned, her eyes tilted downwards and then she slowly shook her head.  “No.”

“How do you have her shape?”

“I don’t understand the question.”  If facial expressions could be believed, Morgan meant it.  She’d been focused on the terminal to this point but now she swiveled in her chair, knees and feet facing Carolyn, chin up, eyes intent.  

“Not to put too fine a point on it but you're, well, a Mimic aren't you.”

“I was.”

“You're not now?”

The Typhon smirked.  “The only meaningful identity I have is Morgan.”

“What I mean to say, Morgan, is Mimics copy.  They copy what's closest, usually, though they can hold a shape a lot longer.  If you never met Morgan, how is it you have her shape?”

Consternation crossed the Chinese-German features of Morgan Yu, followed by a brief but powerful curiosity.  Then the expression yielded to another recognizable emotion; impatience. Even before the Typhon opened her mouth, Carolyn knew what to expect.

“I have several hypotheses.  It could be that Morgan's connectomere's impression on me left me with the shape of those memories, that having the mind of Morgan Yu means knowing her form as I know my own.  I was also injected with cell lines from her genetic material, likely including neurological tissue. Those incorporated human genes could have temporarily, or permanently, changed my natural composition.  Perhaps my original shape is no longer my natural one.”

“Unfortunately,” Morgan said, “I don't have time to test these hypotheses.  Someone tried to kill us both. Someone who had access to TranStar email systems, the ability to co-opt an Operator, who managed to obtain a Mimic and slip it through security.  Someone who managed to kill your transcribe and who could issue orders to security to wipe us both out and cover all of this up.”

“Assuming it's just a someone,” Carolyn countered.  She leaned over the display panel of the terminal and peered at myriad strings of data.  It might as well have been another language to her. “It could be some _thing_ , an organization.  A rival corporation perhaps?  They still exist.”

“I hope you'll fill me in on the state of things, when we have time.”  The Typhon tapped the screen to draw attention to more incomprehensible text strings as if it explained everything.  “What I can say is that it looks like this was all done by one person.”

“Who?”

Morgan pursed her lips before turning away from the screen to gaze impassively at Carolyn.  Typhon or not, the other woman had a controlled presence that nonetheless left the air feeling faintly charged with electricity.  There was a force of personality there, a kind of charisma that Carolyn was adept at spotting. For all that this Morgan had no real memories, she had all of the original's poise and presence.  

Which made her next words profoundly unsettling.

“Dr. Yu.”


	5. Chapter 5

The pair of women faced each other inside a small office of the TranStar Yakima facility’s main administrative building.  Although the sublevels of the secret installation below ground were overfull with survivors, refugees and actual base staff, ground level utilization was much smaller.  After all, TranStar had previously staffed the place to maintain the appearance of a small admin outlet to prying journalists and rival corporations. And neither were much of an issue anymore.  

Besides, when Earth was overrun by an alien infestation, being underground was _much_ safer.

Carolyn Wheeler swept her blonde hair back off her shoulders before pulling it up into a ponytail.  The action bought her a minute to think as she processed her situation. The other woman in the room with her resembled Morgan Yu, TranStar's prodigal daughter, the hero of Talos 1.  Except this Morgan was a copy; a Mimic, one of the Typhon that had invaded Earth.

Despite that, they were allies.  Sort of. An hour or so ago, Carolyn had met the Mimic for the first time.  An hour or so ago, an Operator loaded with a trap Mimic had tried to kill them both.  When that failed, a security team had been turned loose on them and both had their transcribes shut off, isolating them.  Only through some expert fast-talking by Carolyn and hiding by Morgan had the pair escaped TranStar's subterranean base and made it up here to the surface.  

Where the Mimic had just confirmed the identity of the one responsible for all their misfortunes.  The original Morgan Yu herself.

“Are you sure?” Carolyn asked, the words slow as her mind raced to consider the possibilities.

“How well do you understand Rust+?”

“What?”  

Carolyn blinked.  Morgan sighed. Then the Typhon stared blankly at the computer screen before looking back at the blonde.  

“Can you recognize handwriting?” she asked instead.  

“Only if I know it well,” Carolyn replied.

“I recognize my handwriting on the code used to issue orders to that Operator, to the code that turned off our transcribes.  Yours is probably fine now, by the way.”

“It is?”  Carolyn peeked down, then drew her transcribe out of her corporate uniform top where, sure enough, it had a steady blue light indicating good connection.  “Blimey. Why?”

“I think Morgan believed your performance down there,” the Typhon answered, tilting her head slightly as if trying to get another angle to better see Carolyn.  “I'm not sure why. Perhaps she doesn't have access to the surveillance cameras in my suite I'm not supposed to know about. The story you told the guards was public, though, or at least accessible to anyone with standard security credentials.  The fact that there's Mimic remains...well, they could be mine. It's not a perfect story, of course.”

“To whoever's behind this, there were two Mimics and now there's only one,” Carolyn said slowly, speaking the words as she thought of them.  “But which Mimic survived. So she'll still be looking.”

“Yes, but not at you.”  Morgan grinned and there was something impish in the smile, a kind of roguish whimsy that made it very difficult to think of the woman as a Typhon.  “As we speak, those Security Guards are probably searching the whole Sublevel for me or it. It wouldn't occur to her that you might help me escape.”

Carolyn leaned back against the wall and felt her eyebrows draw together as she peered curiously at the dark-haired Yu.  “Why not?”

“Because it didn't occur to me, not at first.  And because I never actually believed you'd do it.”  Morgan shrugged and swiveled back to the terminal. “I don't have Morgan's memories but I do have the shape of them, of the personality and mind that experienced them.  I don't know if that's the same thing, or close enough to it. But the fact is, we did make it off that elevator and get away. For now.”

“For now.”

Silence fell as Morgan resumed doing whatever she was doing with that terminal.  Not quite silence, as the hum of the terminal display mixed with the occasional chime of a system function executed.  To say nothing of the sound of the ventilation system itself.

Time to think.  

This morning, Carolyn woke up expecting a usual day of PR work.  Alex called her in to be part of an experiment for reasons unknown and then vanished on business.  And shortly after meeting the experiment itself, the other Yu sibling decided to try killing it, and Carolyn herself, for reasons equally unknown.  The logical thing to do was go to her head. Harold Alistair was the VP of News and Communication. While something of this scale was well outside his usual bulwark, he reported directly to the CEO.  

Unfortunately, that happened to be Morgan Yu herself.  

Corporate Compliance usually handled whistleblower actions but they also reported up to the CEO.  There weren't any provisions internal to TranStar she could avail herself of, short of possibly appealing directly to the Board.  The next logical thing to do was go to the government. The FBI had a whistleblower line as well and certainly the overarching Department of Justice could handle a case of criminal malfeasance.  

Except neither existed anymore.  Washington DC had fallen within days of Seattle.  All field offices were likewise located in cities, all prime targets for the Typhon during the invasion.  While several other corporations, and even governments, had survived the fall of the world, TranStar was the de facto ruling power as far as she was concerned.  

Which left Carolyn Wheeler with very few options.  Go directly to Alex? Where was Alex? Could she do more than send him an email?  And what would she even say? What were the odds that Alex would side with a PR Director and a Typhon over his own flesh and blood sibling?  

For better or worse, she was stuck with that Typhon.  And probably going to die because of this.

A brief bitterness twisted through her stomach and up her spine before she shoved the emotional response aside.  Carolyn had training to deal with surprises and upsets. Losing her head wouldn't do her any good here.

“Right.”  Carolyn straightened her back, pushed away from the wall and stood behind Morgan once more.  “We've been lucky so far but it won't last. If nothing else that medical tech will likely draw Neuromod Research onto the scent.  I don't suppose you have a plan, do you.”

“Escape,” Morgan said, her tone somewhat absent as she studied list after list.  

“And then?”

“Find myself.  Morgan. Find Morgan.”

“What do you plan to do when you do?”

“Ask her some questions, then plead for your life.”

Carolyn smiled.  “Kind of you. I believe she's somewhere on the East Coast, however.”

“Which is why we need to escape first.”  Morgan finally pushed away from the terminal and walked to the door.  With an incline of her head, she said “Coming?”

Charmed, Carolyn followed the Typhon out the door and down the white-on-white hallways with their red doors.  When a Security Guard rounded the corner, abruptly Morgan was a Neuromod in her hand again. It made for slightly awkward walking given she didn't know where they were going.  

Until the corridor ended at a side exit from the Yakima Facility's admin building.  

A pair once more, Carolyn wilted at the blinding sunlight with all of its heat.  She was a native of London and this wasn't remotely the climate she was used to. A slow turn of her head took in the endlessly empty high desert landscape with only a smattering of outlying buildings to break up the monotony of brush, dead brown grass and rock.  

Beside her, Morgan frowned to herself, then looked thoughtful when Carolyn turned to take in the expression.  The Typhon noticed the scrutiny and responded to the raised eyebrow with a shrug. “I didn't realize where we were.  This place is safer than I thought.”

“What?”

“There's little to no risk of the Typhon ever coming here.”

“Really?”  Carolyn was usually good at concealing her surprise but some things were worth showing it.  “Why?”

“Let me answer your question with a question,” Morgan said as the two walked briskly across the pavement towards one of the flight hangers.  While there was evidence of a few desperate souls moving about in a nearby depot, the surface remained deliberately deserted. Which of course made Morgan's enigmatic remarks that much more compelling.  

“Alright, what's the question?”

“Do you remember the first Weaver?”

“What, on Talos 1?”

“The one from the Vorona-1.”

Carolyn thought for a minute, dredging through memories she rarely examined and didn't much care to think on.  “Right. The Soviet satellite, the first one to encounter Mimics. What about it?”

“The Typhon were encountered in 1958.  The Kletka Program began immediately after and, for years, it was isolated.  Contained. Only one man died in the initial incident, producing a total of four Mimics, one of whom was repurposed into a Weaver.”

“Right, I remember the old camera footage.  He was in space and it just floated on by before coming after him.  What of it?”

As they drew near the hanger, Morgan ventured a small smile.  “Do you know what Coral is?”

“It's commonly understood to be a kind of nervous system spun out of the consciousness of Typhon victims.”  Carolyn heaved a sigh. “What do any of these questions have to do with this base being secure?”

“In the 1950s, a man died, produced a Weaver and the whole satellite was quarantined.  There weren't any victims in that observation bay after the Weaver was made and that Russian died before the satellite was relocated there.  Here's the question, then.” Morgan stopped just before the hanger door and that small smile turned into a grin. “What did the Weaver spin the Coral from?”

Carolyn opened her mouth to answer, paused, then blinked.  When she opened her mouth a bit further to inquire, Morgan pried open the keypad lock and toggled the door open.  The Typhon grabbed Carolyn by the elbow and drew her inside.

The interior of the hanger was vast, wider than Wembley Stadium.  It held rows of airplanes, from fighter jets to small passenger planes.  One of which was rolled up to the hangar-bay doors and prepped for departure.  A dozen ground crew were busy retracting a fueling assembly and clearing the plane to leave.  

“What the-”

“Ms. Wheeler?”  A pair of TranStar Security Guards approached her before one beckoned her towards the plane.  “Right this way.”

“Of course,” Carolyn said, effortlessly handling her surprise with the indifferent expression she often used to conceal it.  A quick glance to the side revealed Morgan was once more a Neuromod, this time weighing down a pocket in her TranStar corporate uniform.  

A slight chill crept down her spine as she advanced towards the plane.  The Mimics had devastated the human race with a single trick. They killed millions despite people knowing exactly how they did it, despite training, and even despite the Typhon themselves.  As good as the Mimics were at copying an object's properties, they were pretty bad at understanding their qualities. Cups moved, chairs floated. And still people died, over and over to them.

Mimics weren't every object in a room.  But they could be _any_ object in a room.

This Typhon was something new, though.  She had all the agile grace of a Greater Mimic combined with something the Typhon had never had; understanding.  She transformed when no one was looking. She didn't move when she shouldn't move.

Was she trustworthy?  If she wasn't, the human race didn't stand a chance.

Carolyn stepped up the walkway, ducked her head slightly for the plane entrance and stepped into an opulent passenger cabin.  Rich dark mahogany with glossy metal hull accents made for an appealing interior. She swept herself into a comfortably upholstered swivel chair bound with red leather and briefly considered the mini-bar nearby.  It was still morning but with this kind of day?

Seeing as she was alone in the interior, she leaned back into the chair and sighed heavily.  Then she produced the Neuromod and eyed it sternly. “We need to work on our communication skills.”

“I thought people liked surprises,” Morgan said a second later, as a fear-inducing black twist turned the small apparatus into the Chinese-German woman who now sat opposite Carolyn.  The other woman leaned onto the short table separating their chairs. “Don't you?”

“What ever gave you that idea?”

“Izumi Minami's birthday party.”

Again, Carolyn stiffened.  For all that the recent hours were filled with action and a certain immediacy of present, this day had been one of recollecting the past.  The painful past. Once more, this Morgan Yu reminded her of a place she’d tried to forget. Of people she didn’t want to remember.

The pretty communications chief had been a friend.  Might have been more than a friend, possibly. Certainly Izumi had hinted at some interest.  The flirting had been nice enough. Life aboard Talos 1 could be monotonous, though, for anyone not conducting research directly.  As the sole PR Director aboard the space station, Carolyn had plenty of meetings but not much else to fill her time so a little flirting had been welcome.  Even if she remembered feeling a bit guilty about it given she’d been married at the time.

And now Izumi was dead.  Sue was dead. Most of Earth was dead.  

“Where did you go?” Morgan asked.  Her face seemed guarded now, wary of something.

“I knew Izumi.  It’s...strange to hear you talk like you knew her.”

“I didn’t.  I don’t. In the simulation, she was already dead when I found her.”  Morgan smiled faintly. “But it looked like a nice party.”

“I was planning to go but I had a press release at the annual TranStar Investor’s Meeting to support,” Carolyn said distantly.  

“I don’t understand you.”

“What’s to understand, Morgan?”  Glaring, Carolyn leaned back in her chair as the plane began to roll forward, out of the hanger.  “Where are we going?”

“East.”  The word was short, sharp and clearly an afterthought.  “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

Morgan’s eyes narrowed.  “My instinct is to take you at your word.  I suspect that’s what Morgan would have done.  But something tells me that's wrong. You're saying one thing but the way you say it, the way you look tells me there's more.”

Carolyn sat up in her chair, at least for the next minute.  The plane would be lifting off soon, judging by a pick up in pace and the slight turns that suggested it was maneuvering for a runway.  Across the table, the Typhon looked annoyed. Looked human. Intuited like a human.

So she did what any human would do; avoid the subject.  “Morgan, what's going on here? How did you get this plane?  Where are we going? What is…” Carolyn paused and peered suspiciously at the Typhon.  “Why are you even doing any of this? Why do you care?”

Morgan T. Yu, as her email titled her, sat up in her chair as well, echoing Carolyn's body language.  With one hand, she brushed the dark bangs of her forehead before placing both hands on the brief table.  The two women stared at each other for a moment before the Typhon at last relented. As usual, it was telegraphed the same way a human might, with a relaxation of the eyes and a firming of the lips.  Could a Mimic copy a human so perfectly? They never had before. Did this Morgan actually feel what humans felt? Was she human, for all intents and purposes?

The plane abruptly sped up.  Carolyn spun her chair around to face forward, eyes looking through the small transparent window pane as she watched the runway speed by faster and faster.  In a matter of a minute, the ground fell away. Despite herself, she felt...exhilarated. She'd always enjoyed flying and all of her trips for several years now had been work-related.  

Whatever this was, it was off-schedule.  It wasn't to a conference or journalists.  She couldn't call it a vacation, not with her life at stake, but it had a lack of structure she'd nearly forgotten could exist.  

As the plane leveled of, Carolyn swiveled her chair back towards the Typhon.  Morgan's gaze was fixed on her own set of window panes and there was a look of naked joy there.  Despite how well the woman seemed to be Morgan Yu, it was in this very moment that Carolyn realized the Typhon's honesty.  This Morgan really only had a day's worth of simulated memories, all of which had been in space. The rest of her existence had been in TranStar's Yakima Facility, down in the Beast Below.  

The look of childlike wonder was surprisingly endearing.  

“You're still waiting for answers, aren't you,” Morgan said at last, finally noticing her companion's interest.  

“If it's not too much trouble.”

“I'm very good with computers.  I simply reworked the schedule orders for the day and inserted your name in it, backdating the request by weeks.  You're being sent to TranStar's INL facilities in Idaho, to be apprised of the local office's newest research in order to formulate a communication strategy with the public.  It will look like a standing appointment so unless Morgan really digs into your records, she shouldn't wonder why you're on a plane today. Assuming she doesn't write you off as an accident in the first place.”

“...Right.  Clever.”

“Thank you,” the Typhon said, inclining her head and smiling faintly.  “As near as I can tell, our destination is where Morgan's access was made.  Hopefully she'll be there. If not, we'll know more soon enough once we get on the ground.”

“As for why I'm doing this, I doubt my motives are that surprising, Ms. Wheeler.”  Morgan's smile grew slightly. “I want answers. I want to live. And I want to keep you alive.” A kind of introspection crossed those pretty dark eyes of hers.  “Did you know, not counting Operators, you and Alex are the only people from Talos still alive? At least that I know of.”

“Does that matter so much to you?” Carolyn asked.  “I wasn't even there.”

“You were on the Advent.  They had remote charges rigged on it, and I was in the position to detonate them before you arrived back on Earth.”  Morgan's smile slipped away, replaced with something colder. Not cruel. Something painful. “Everyone on the bridge was dead, Ms. Wheeler.  Their records suggested there might be Typhon on your shuttle. Probably not but impossible to rule out.”

Swallowing hard, Carolyn said “It was only a simulation.”

“It was real to me,” Morgan said, talking on as if she hadn't been interrupted, had only paused.   “If I blew the charges, I might save Earth but I absolutely would kill everyone on that shuttle including you.”

“You couldn't?”

“I couldn't,” Morgan echoed, shaking her head.  Her lips pressed together and her hands tightened on the handrests of her chair.  Another smile but it was mirthless. “I wouldn't. I had to save you all. I wanted to save everyone.  So many people died and I couldn't save most of you so I saved those I could. I had to save you, Carolyn.”

The Typhon leaned forward at last, reaching across the table to grip Carolyn's hand.  Finger squeezing, she felt Morgan's warmth. Just like a woman's warmth after all. The same tremble a woman might have, after experiencing something traumatic.  

“Is this my fault?” Morgan asked at last.  “All of this? Did I kill Earth to save you?”

“... No.  No, Morgan, no, it wasn't the Advent at all.”  Carolyn didn't know why she had to reassure a monster, why she wanted to, felt she needed to.  But looking at the obvious distress in the Mimic's eyes, she found the last of her disbelief falling away.  These aliens couldn't figure out how to normally copy a person without falling over like a statue. It was impossible for them to copy that haunted look in Morgan's eyes without feeling it. Actually feeling it.  

“I’m sorry,” Morgan said.

“You've nothing to be sorry for, dear.”

“I wish that were true.”

And the two women spent the next hour in uncomfortable silence.  


	6. Chapter 6

“Tell me about the sentient Operators.”

Carolyn looked away from the rapidly approaching ground below, despite how much she liked the approach.  Planes were a pleasure for her, especially in this overly comfortable TranStar passenger plane's cabin. With a nice scotch from the mini-bar in her for fortification, Carolyn Wheeler felt more like the confident, capable Public Relations Director she was.  Rather than a fugitive who might be murdered by TranStar's CEO, Morgan Yu.  

Which definitely made for mixed feelings as she looked across the plane cabin's small table.  There were half a dozen such tables in total, boasting twelve chairs. Food and beverages were in ample supply and, indeed, Carolyn had taken the opportunity to snack.  Who knew when she'd have another chance? Surprisingly, Morgan had joined in eating an apple, a banana and even now she was finishing off a bag of crisps.  

“Tell me if that's actually nourishing you, why don't you,” Carolyn said, verbalizing her speculation instead of continuing to dwell on it.  

“These chips?”

“I didn't think Mimics ate anything besides us.”

Morgan made a face and promptly munched another chip with deliberation before responding.  “There's not much for me, no, but I've learned to enjoy the flavors. And there is...a degree of nutrition.”

“Are you hungry now?  For people, I mean? Look at me, so polite aren't I.”  Carolyn chuckled and shook her head. “Honestly, don't answer that.”

“It's fine, Ms. Wheeler.  It's a fair question and one I'd probably have if I were you.”  Morgan set the empty bag of crisps aside and wiped her hands with a napkin.  “I’ll put it this way. Have you ever encountered scented candles?”

“Have you?” Carolyn asked, surprised.  

“In the simulation.  There was a couple, a picnic interrupted...that's not important.  What matters is the candle smelled like something it wasn't. Have you ever been around one?”

“Of course.  Loads of times.”

“You smell like a scented candle.”

Carolyn grinned before ducking her head in mock salute.  “Why, thank you!”

“Tell me about sentient Operators.”

“Right.  That's complicated, that is.  Legally, it's a bit of an open question; are Emulated Entities people?  Do they have rights? Can they be considered individuals or simply facsimiles?  The law varies from nation-state to nation-state. Although there aren't a lot of nations left now.  I assume you can guess how one makes an Operator sentient?”

Morgan didn't answer immediately but thought about it as the plane descended further.  The ground came into sight. Only a few more minutes and they'd be back on solid Earth again.  Back into the fray once more.  

“I assume a connectomere is made of someone's brain,” the Typhon said at last.  “A full connectomere, not just scanning for skills that can be loaded into a Neuromod.  No Typhon material is needed, if you're not copying the data to a human brain. I imagine someone would essentially store the connectomere in a hard drive and then mount it via an emulation engine.  Then give the emulation access to an Operator's OS.”

“...I assume so.”  Carolyn shrugged. “Honestly, I'm not conversant with the particulars.  Which makes it difficult to feel like I'm really answering your questions.”

“Chief Elazar, Dr. Igwye, Danielle Sho...Mikhaila.”  Morgan's utterance of those names dug open painful pits in the black wall Carolyn kept between herself and her memories of Talos 1.  It didn't seem the Typhon was particularly pleased to invoke their names either. “Did they survive?”

Sympathetically, Carolyn reached out a hand.  Morgan's rested on the table and she covered one, squeezing it tightly.  “No, I'm afraid not. I...we kept in touch, after a fashion. We Talos 1 survivors, I mean.  They survived the station but not the fall of Earth.”

Morgan's jaw trembled with tension and she swallowed hard.  Then, with an uneventful nod, she turned away to stare out the window as the plane touched down.  Not that there was much to look at.

The INL Facilities were set on a vast valley floor, with distant mountains in all directions.  This far inland, the ground seemed baked by the sun. Not desert, exactly, but likely green for no more than a month or two a year.  A few dots of trees, a number of shrubs and tall, dry, dead grass made up the view in all directions.  

Which naturally drew the eye to the TranStar facilities themselves.  Once, this had been the Idaho National Laboratory. For decades, it had been one of the foremost sites for nuclear research in the United States.  While Los Alamos was more well known, it's emphasis had historically been on nuclear weapons. INL by contrast had specialized in nuclear power plant production, building more than 50 of them over the years.  

TranStar had won INL's national contract with the government when it bought out Battelle Energy Alliance which administered the facility.  Carolyn's emphasis in PR had largely focused on space-bearing applications of TranStar's research so she had only a passing familiarity with INL.  Still, it was reasonably impressive from the outside.

There were no grandiose skyscrapers here.  No towering edifices of science and industry.  With so much open, unoccupied land, INL had spread out in a series of buildings of varying vintage.  The main building this airplane slowly coasted to was the most impressive, standing three stories with shining glass, steel and concrete to make a striking profile in the brown, barren wilderness.  From what she could see, the other outlying buildings were older and plainly made for practicality, not aesthetics. Barrels and silos, engines and old vehicles, stacks of equipment and canvas-covered machine shops littered the shores of these smaller, one-story structures which themselves looked like the work of Army engineers.  

This was not a place for the public.  It didn't have to impress visitors. It simply had to efficiently and economically advance nuclear research, on time and under budget.  

As the plane finally rolled to a stop, Carolyn felt a certain tension come over her.  This next part would be unpredictable. Which meant getting a little more information while she still could.  

“Morgan's here?”

“I believe so, yes.”

“Why?”

The Typhon's head fell slightly to the side, as if bending from a breeze.  “I'm not certain. Except that I know I have a variety of technical skills.  That,” she said as she pointed out a window towards their destination, “is the Critical Infrastructure Test Range.  It includes its own power utility grid, has replicas of all cell and mobile services in this country as well as its own TranScribe Network.  I think transcribes were invented here.”

“Is that a memory?” Carolyn asked, staring incredulously at the surprising woman beside her.  

“Not exactly.  If you see that antenna up there, atop the third floor to the right of that satellite dish?  When I look at it, I know the frequency it broadcasts at. I know there are six permanent test frequencies as well, with varying bandwidths, and when I look at your transcribe I find myself knowing that I can switch it's reception to one of those test channels instead of the main TranStar Network.”

“Just like that.”

Morgan shrugged, then shifted towards the exit of the plane as something metal rang outside.  Likely the service loading ramp being engaged. “This is the site that originated the orders to kill us both.  The Yakima Facility was unfamiliar to me but this place has technology I understand, now that I'm here to see it.  We will find answers here. Now, are you ready?”

“I am, yes.  In my pocket, shall you?”

Morgan smirked slightly and Carolyn realized she'd grown rather fond of the other woman's smile.  It wasn't quite the expression she'd grown used to on the real Dr. Morgan Yu, for that woman had virtually never smiled.  This Morgan shared the same sharp fire but her presence was warm rather than scorching.  

In that moment, Carolyn was startled to realize she actually  _ liked  _ the Typhon.  

The service door opened and the PR Director stood up from her chair, alone, with only a Neuromod weighing down her pocket.  Ducking under the exit's overarching frame, Carolyn stepped out into a brilliant sun-soaked landscape. The afternoon heat blasted her, rocking her as if it nearly had physical weight to it.  Most unsettling was how starkly dry it was. Sweat instantly broke out on her forehead and was even more instantly snapped up by the parched air.  

Below, two TranStar Security Guards flanked a young man whose uniform and presence suggested he was a facility coordinator.  She stepped down to meet him, shaking his hand as the two Security Guards fell in as respectful escorts.  

“Ms. Wheeler, welcome to TranStar INL.  I'm Luis Martinez. My instructions are to see you situated in a guest room.  One of our Technicians will then set you up with local server access.”

“Thank you,” she said, because saying anything else would be strange or counterproductive.

“Your trip didn't come with an itinerary, only the instruction that once you're settled in, you'll arrange any meetings you need to attend personally.  What we'll do is download the complex's maps so you have facility and conference room locations. You're encouraged to cross-check those maps with facility directories and schedule the rooms in the buildings that have the majority of attendees already in them.” Luis smiled a bit apologetically.  “People here are working on a tight timetable and the fewer interruptions we can make to their work, the better.”

“Oh, I couldn't agree more.”

The quartet boarded a shuttle car, whose climate- controlled interior provided immediate relief from the oppressive heat of INL's geography.  Carolyn gripped the padded armrests of her seat as the vehicle speed away towards a series of smaller buildings out past the workshops.  

“This is the Central Facilities Area,” Luis said, waving a hand out the window.  “There are 72 buildings in total, ranging from three office buildings, medical and fire, security, and of course a full cafeteria facility as well as living quarters.  We have a fleet of vehicles on hand with drivers who can run you to and from any of the Central Facility Area's site locations.”

“Am I to understand I should be staying put here then?” she asked with a careful lift of one eyebrow.

Luis coughed politely.  “INL has a range of site locations, Ms. Wheeler.  The Materials & Fuels Complex, the Reactor Technology Complex, the Critical Infrastructure Test Range Complex and so on.  Each location has its own security so if you need to visit any of those sites, you'll want to speak with their site liaison.  They can arrange clearance for you.”

“Excellent.”

The PR Director, the facility coordinator and the two Security Guards left the transport once it deposited them outside a five story complex that looked suspiciously like a hotel.  Instead of an expansive, welcoming entrance however, it boasted a fortified checkpoint complete with a dozen heavily armed soldiers. Eradicator Turrets reinforced them and it took all of Carolyn's affected charm to seem untroubled.  

“Most of the INL staff lived in Idaho Falls, until it was evacuated when the Typhon invaded two months ago,” Luis explained as the quartet approached.  “They're still trying to find room for everyone here.”

“Must make your job interesting at least.”

“There is that,” Luis said, smiling at her understanding.  “We still have room for-”

“SCANNING TARGET: WARNING: POSSIBLE TYPHON CONTAINMENT.”

Everyone froze as the Eradicator Autoturrets gave Carolyn a look over before voicing a less than stellar report.  Shrugging helplessly, she raised her hands and said, “I’ve already been through security on the Yakima Facility's end but you lot might as well look me over then.”

Psychoscopes snapped down over the dozen soldiers manning the post and two stepped forward, one circling behind her while the other carefully examined her.  She simply waited patiently and tried not to feel offended that Luis Martinez pointedly stepped away from her and any potential line of fire.  

“You're Neuromodded,” the man behind her said.  

“That's right.”

“What with?”

“I was aboard Talos 1,” Carolyn answered and though she couldn't see the speaker, the soldiers in sight had nicely satisfying reactions of surprise on the parts of their faces visible beneath their psychoscopes.  “Needless to say, I had access. Let's see. I had a Neuromod installed for painting, one for Mandarin, and several for basic physiological enhancement.”

“Ma'am?  What kind of enhancement?” 

“Like the one in my pocket, they're E-Series production models.  Knowledge of what they are and what they do is confidential, I'm afraid, so you'll need to submit a Neuromod Disclosure Form to the Neuromod Research Office via your supervisor.”

Once more, knowledge of corporate policy saved her.  It also helped that she'd 'disclosed’ the ‘Neuromod’ in her pocket just as the one in front picked it up.  He pointed at her corporate suit pocket and Carolyn reached in, took hold of the disguised Morgan and opened her palm to show the mimicked Typhon.  At least they hadn't asked any more questions about what she'd already installed. Neuromodding was known to install memories but fewer knew of the physical effects it could create.  These were TranStar employees too but it required a certain clearance to know she expected to live for a good 150 years.  

“Ms. Wheeler,” Luis Martinez said in a tone that suggested great carefulness.  He took a step closer, while still not getting too close to a security situation.  “Neuromods are restricted at INL, as is any biological material.”

“Begs your pardon?”

“The Critical Infrastructure Test Range Complex includes the Biotechnology Research Facility.  This entire area is carefully controlled, to avoid any risk of contamination of the work being done here.  We can't have undocumented Typhon material of any kind on this site.”

Oi.  They were going to be difficult, weren't they.  It was tempting to admit to a physical condition the mod was intended to rectify but that didn't explain why she hadn't already installed it.  Besides, they could easily have her medical record on file to reference.  

“Understandable.  Give me a sealed container then and I'll keep it secure.”

That...was not what they wanted to hear.  Carolyn only smiled serenely. Most people offered an explanation when challenged.  But TranStar was no stranger to confidentiality and certainly Carolyn's job title and alleged reason for being here were good cover.  

Besides, smiling kept them from seeing how terrified she was.

Luis sighed and rubbed the top of his otherwise immaculately groomed head.  “Ms. Wheeler, is there a reason you brought a Neuromod all the way over here instead of just installing it back in Yakima Facility?”

“Of course,” Carolyn said, her mind racing quickly to cover a scenario she hadn't thought of.  Then she brightened. “Because it's not for me.”

“You're not an auth-you know what, I'm not going to get anywhere with this, am I.”  The young man rubbed his chin and fixed her with an appraising glare.  

“Given my experience with the Yu's, no probably not.”  Carolyn deliberately kept her tone light, casual, as if name dropping the most powerful people on Earth (still alive) was an everyday thing for her.  

It was to her advantage that it might be.  She'd already admitted to having Neuromods, several of them, as well as serving on board Talos 1.  Both of the Yu's had as well but there weren't more than perhaps half a dozen survivors left now. There'd been, what, only a hundred onboard in the first place?  Far easier for her to claim their acquaintance than probably anyone else who came to INL.  

It didn't surprise her when they at last complied and came up with a lockbox for 'her Neuromod’.  Carolyn was relieved, though. Not because they stopped fussing but because they evidently hadn't reported this on up.  Not that TranStar Security Guards would trouble top-end executives like the Yu's over a relatively minor security matter.

If they'd gone to Alex, it might have helped actually.  If they'd gone to Morgan, though, it could have been her death warrant right then and there.

With Luis Martinez as her escort, Carolyn accepted the brief facilities tour he provided as he showed her around the hotel-like dormitory.  He pointed out other similar buildings as well as a cafeteria building, and another auxiliary services facility that included mail, gyms, laundry and evidently even child care.

The tour ended at her room and Carolyn promptly stretched out on the mattress once Luis had taken his leave.  As rooms went, it was reasonable. A nicer mattress than her own, two night stands, a desk with terminal as well as cubicles for clothes and personal effects.  Not much different than her own room on Talos 1.  

Keying the code to the lockbox, she tossed the Neuromod onto the mattress next to her.  It landed as a rather pretty Chinese-German woman now pressed against her on the not-quite-big-enough bed.  And Caroyn's sudden inhalation hissed through her teeth at the close contact.

Surely it was having a Typhon draped over her that caused her heart to race.  Caused tingling shocks to race down her spine and across the surface of her skin.  This was a monster, one of the creatures that had killed the world, killed Sue. And yet…

_ Two years _ .  Had it been so long since she'd had someone this close?  Must have been. Surely. Typhon or not, Carolyn Wheeler wasn't dead and Morgan Yu had a perfectly excellent physique no matter what lay beneath it.  

For a moment, neither woman said anything.  At last, Carolyn licked her lips to unseal them, coughed to clear her throat and said, “Right.  Well then, shall we try the terminal?”

“...Yes.”

To Carolyn's surprise, Morgan seemed just as affected, just as confused.  Why? A human couldn't possibly be the kind of threat to the Typhon as Morgan was to her.  And yet the dark-haired woman looked positively breathless, almost stunned. Stunned enough that when Carolyn gently nudged her off so they could both get up, the other woman nearly fell off the bed.  

“I think they still have to turn on access, actually,” Carolyn said a moment later, as she glanced at the initial login screen on the terminal.  

“The Facility Coordinator said as much,” Morgan echoed.  

“You could hear him then?”

“Hear, yes.  I could have seen him the whole time if I hadn't been in your pocket.”

“So, becoming something else.  You still have senses. Even when you're something that doesn't have senses, you still have senses.”

Morgan's composure finally returned and she gave that small little smile that Carolyn had come to understand meant reserve.  Not quite the real Morgan's reserve, which was borne mostly from professional detachment and disinterest. This Morgan was interested but also careful.  

“That's right,” the Typhon admitted at last.

“How does that work?”

“Let's try another analogy.  Make a fist with your hand.” Carolyn complied and Morgan nodded approvingly.  “Good. Now make your hand flat. Now make a cup. With each of these shapes, you can do something different.  Break something, hold something, carry something. It's still my hand though. And my eyes are up here, my ears, my sense of smell are all up here, not down there.”

Frowning, Carolyn leaned against the desk as she thought that over.  And felt unexpectedly grateful for the extra distance from Morgan that leaning afforded her.  “But your hand is only part of you. When you become a Neuromod, isn't all of you mimicking a Neuromod?”

“All of me that you can see,” Morgan said, nodding as if conceding a point.  As if that answer hadn't just made everything _vastly_ more creepy.  

“What?”

“I don't have perfect explanations for you, Ms. Wheeler.  What I was, I understood intuitively. I didn't think about my existence, I simply existed.  Now that I have the shape of Morgan's mind, now that I'm emulating her brain, I'm able to think like her, think with much of what she knew and I have a few theories worth research.  But that would require time, resources and a counterpart who hadn't tried to kill both of us.”

“Yes, of course.”  Carolyn blushed then, and promptly rubbed her cheeks.  Blushing wasn't something she did. Why had she now? “So, what's next?”

“Follow the plan,” Morgan answered, dropping back onto the bed and leaning back with her hands behind her to brace herself.  The pose did nice things for that corporate top.  

“Which is?”

“For you?  Get access.  Book some review meetings for tomorrow and the rest of the week.  Get dinner and a good night's sleep. Tomorrow, the real work begins.”

Carolyn shook her head slowly.  “And what will you be doing?”

“Finding where Morgan Yu is hiding.  And then...what to do about that. About her.”

Those words sounded uncomfortably martial to Carolyn.  Morgan didn't look much happier about them. But then, in a situation with so few answers, all they had was uncomfortable speculation.  

And tomorrow.  


End file.
